


Deep Sea Dreaming

by sleepy_moon



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M, Private Investigator AU, adam and christina friendship, but we get there soon enough, crime genre, no blake in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_moon/pseuds/sleepy_moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why're you here anyway?" Blake asked, leaning heavily against the table. "I get it, the girl's missing and the grandmother's sick. But you're doin' it for free, you've got to be a certain level of crazy to want to get mixed up in all this." He motioned a spiral around his ear. </p><p>"Why do you think I became a PI?" Adam replied to his question with another. "I'm a passionate person." </p><p>"Thrillseeker, more like," the older man grumbled. He shifted slightly and Adam heard the clack of the guns concealed in his thick jacket. "You're gonna keep digging 'till you can't see daylight no more."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story's a bit silly lol, but I do love AUs. This chapter is longer than the general ones I write, so there's probably going to be some inconsistencies in the lengths. Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Also I know there's no Blake in this chapter, and sorry if you don't like Christina. Trust me it'll be more Shevine heavy later on.

The pilot of the small helicopter fretted, rubbing his hands together as they watched the thickening sky. Adam dropped a wad of twenty dollar notes into his lap, too distracted by the letter clenched in his fist to bother arguing with the guy. 

“Your family can sue mine if we die,” he said, and when this didn’t calm him down, he added, “and I’ll pay you an extra six hundred on the other side if we survive.” 

The man wrung his hands one last time, muttering something dark about Americans and climbed into the chopper. Adam dropped into the passenger seat hugging his bag to his chest. He’d packed quickly, relying on Matt to have a spare jacket on him because he’d completely forgotten his own. He frowned, pulling out Christina’s letter again. It was barely literate, sentences disjointed and desperate and very unlike his friend. 

There was something about Christina’s grandmother, Greta, falling ill, which he’d already heard about through another letter from her a month earlier. Missing jewellery and bickering within the family, which was odd. And the disturbing conclusion which had made him pick up his bags and head out to Wickham Island. Apparently her long time friend and housemaid, Jessica, had disappeared overnight, leaving only footsteps heading in the direction of the cliffs.  

As they neared the island, Adam glanced out the side of the helicopter down into the dark water. His stomach turned and he wondered if Jessica was somewhere down under the surface.

“Thanks,” he said, jumping out. The pilot stepped out too and stood expectantly with his hand out. 

“What? Oh, right,” Adam fumbled in his pocket before pulling out his wallet. Trying not to scowl pettily, since he was the one that suggested the amount, he handed over the notes. “Have a safe trip back,” he said, to which the man tipped his hat. 

“Say hello to Jacob for me,” was his only response. 

Adam walked down the shaded path, wondering whether he could manage the trek of several miles to Greta Aguilera’s mansion at which Christina was currently living. He’d been to the island twice before, but had never stayed at the mansion. He doubted he could find his way there easily.

Before he had too long to think about it, an expensive looking black Porsche rounded the curve of the mountain and came into his sight. The vehicle stopped in front of him and Adam wrinkled his nose at the heavy petrol fumes. The tinted glass window rolled down to reveal Christina’s grinning fiancé, Matthew Rutler.

“Adam!” he exclaimed, jumping out to shake his hand. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Christina’s been making me drive down here every half hour to make sure you weren’t waiting.” He glanced at the sky. “I almost didn’t come down again, though. How’d you get Maxim to fly you across in this weather?” 

“I blew a thousand,” Adam replied, slightly sheepish. “I wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow.” A cold breeze whipped in from the sea and he shivered, remembering painfully that he was clad in nothing more than a thin white shirt and jeans. Matt noticed his discomfort and went to open the passenger car door. 

“You can dump your bag in the back seat,” he said, revving the engine.        

Adam settled in comfortably and admired the smooth leather seats, before sobering as he remembered the reason he was there. “Anything new on Jessica?”

Matt’s brow crinkled slightly and he kept his eyes on the road. “We think she ran away.”

“Not a suicide?” Adam asked, just for the sake of it. 

“Jesus, Adam!” Matt said, shaking his head. “Is that your first assumption for everything?”

“Hey.” He shrugged. “All I know is that there were footprints leading up to a cliff top.”

“Ah,” he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited for a deer to cross the road. “Yeah that’s true, but when we had the police come out and we did a proper search we realised that one of our boats was missing.” By this point the darkened sky had begun to give way and the spitting rain had become a light shower. Matt flicked at the controls absentmindedly, missing the windscreen wipers completely and turning on the blinkers.  

“As in your rowboats?” Adam asked, surprised. “And rowed all the way to the mainland?” 

“It’s not unheard of,” he said, pulling up in front of Greta’s mansion. “Now put on your best detective face, Christina’s climbing walls.”

“Private investigator, actually.”

Adam wondered if Christina had some kind of alarm that went off when Matt came within twenty feet of the house, because they were barely out of the car when she came barrelling toward them. She skipped her fiancé in order to punch Adam lightly on the chest before tugging on his ear forcing him to stoop to her height. 

“What took you so long?” she asked, and for someone who was supposedly broken up over her friend’s disappearance, she was as solidly put together as usual. 

“Took me so- I drove all night and then paid a guy triple his asking price to fly me over ASAP,” he replied, indignantly rubbing his ear. “You’re terrible.” It was raining seriously now, and Adam was drenched to the bone. He was shivering embarrassingly and he blamed his Californian upbringing. 

Her expression softened slightly and she tugged him toward the house by his collar. “Let’s get you warmed up and a change of clothes. Did you even bring anything?” 

“I’ve got his bag here,” Matt said, looking slightly put off. Adam felt slightly sorry for him, but Christina was tactile by nature, it never meant anything more than platonic. “It only weighs about eight pounds, though.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said, rolling her eyes as she pushed him inside the house. “No-one here is small enough to lend you pants that won’t fall off your scrawny ass.” 

“I brought spare jeans,” he said defensively, following her to the lounge. “I figured shirt sizes didn’t matter.” 

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about a jacket?” she asked knowingly. At the click of her fingers, a servant rushed forward to add wood to the fire and return it to a roaring blaze. “Luke is visiting so he only has one, Matt literally only has one because he's an idiot, and Jacob doesn’t have anything that wouldn’t make you fuss.”

“Dude smells like mothballs,” Adam argued, wrinkling his nose at the thought of her uncle. “I’d rather freeze.”  

She smiled slightly and settled into an arm chair, motioning for him to sit across from her. She hadn’t started fussing about what the rain was going to do to her hair, so he knew that she was about to hit the serious topic. 

“It’s not adding up,” she said, biting her thumb nail, a habit she’d left behind years ago. “I don’t- she wouldn’t just leave like that! And the footsteps on the cliff, I don’t understand any of it.” 

Adam looked around for his bag and found it resting at his feet. Matt was nowhere to be found, so he assumed that he’d dropped the bag before leaving. He extracted his notebook, a pen and a tape recorder from the tangled heap of clothing bunched inside and turned back to Christina, attentive. The change of clothes was forgotten. 

“Do you want to go from the start?” he asked, calm and amiable. 

She shuddered slightly, but nodded. He pressed record on the recorder.  

“When was the last time you saw Miss Jessica Morrison?” he asked, unsure if being more formal would calm her down or make her panic. Thankfully Christina replied calmly, and he remembered that she’d already been through her story with the police. 

“At about seven o’clock pm, six days ago. So that would have been the twenty-first of November,”  she said. “I was just about to go up to bed to read and she was putting away the linen.”

“Did she say anything to you?” 

“Only that she was going to be doing a load of white clothes in the morning,” she said with conviction. “After that I went up and never heard from her again.” 

“No need to be so heavy minded,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “It’s likely that she’ll turn up.” 

“Right,” she said, and he wondered why she wouldn’t believe him. She was a cynical woman, but he’d always found her to get more idealistic as she became desperate. 

“You realised Jessica was missing- when was this?”

“I was wondering where she was all morning,” she said. “It was only at about noon, I think, that I became worried. Nathan, that’s her boyfriend, came to me asking if I’d seen her. He said she hadn’t come in that night and he thought I’d taken her with me on some errand. I told him I hadn’t, so we went and asked around. Turns out, no one had seen her before six the previous night, so I was the last to see her,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I figured that maybe she’d fallen or something, gotten hurt where nobody could see her. So we went out looking.”

“Around what time?”

“Four o’clock maybe? I’m not sure. But anyway, about half an hour later was when we found the footprints. I took some pictures,” she handed Adam a ziplock bag with around six high definition prints. “They went right through all the mud, up to the point where the cliff’s just stone. So about ten feet from the edge.” 

“She looks like she was running,” Adam commented, inspecting the pressure and the distance between each step. Glancing up and seeing her grim expression, he added, “But don’t take my word for it, I’m sending these back to Jesse.”

“That reminds me,” she said. “There’s a satellite that we use to get a signal, but with this weather it doesn’t connect.”

“Seriously? Isn’t there anywhere I can get a phone connection?” he asked.

Her brow wrinkled. “Down at the village, there's a phone at the general store, the wires go under the sea or something. There's post as well, a man takes it across and collects from the other side every Monday and Thursday.” 

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” he grimaced. He tapped his pen on his notebook, “About what time did you call the police?”

“Nathan said to wait, that she’d probably gone walking,” Christina said, and then frowned. “Remind me not to listen to that idiot again.”

“Sure.”

“At about seven I got really worried, and I talked to Matt and he said to call the cops. The shops were closed so we waited until early morning the next day to make the call.”

“Did they bring a search party?”

“A couple of cops came down, got our story and then sent a few more over. We helped them search and that was when we found that there was a missing boat.” 

Adam tried to control his fidgeting and leaned back, sinking into the plush sofa. “Do you think she left on the boat?” 

“I’m not sure,” Christina said, turning to look into the fireplace, as if she could find the answers there. “I just don’t know why she would. And we don’t even know if she made it safely to the shore.”   


“Ok,” he said, tapping his pen on the page and checking the time on his recorder. “What are the police saying?” 

“They’re pretty sure she left on her own, at the moment they’re checking security footage from buildings on the seaside. I’m pretty sure there’s been no success so far.”

“Let’s take it back a little,” he said, making a note to call James as well. “What’s she like, as a person?” 

“She’s the warmest person you could meet,” she said, with conviction. “I could- can tell her everything, I just really want her to be alright.”

Adam felt like commenting on how it was probably the most sincere he’d ever seen her, but decided that it wouldn’t be tactful. “Can you think of why she might have left?” he asked instead. “Are there any issues she’s been having recently?”

Christina didn’t even stop to think, simply nodding her head, “Nathan,” she said. 

“That’s the boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on, but they’ve been fighting a lot recently,” she said. “You can hear them in the front garden sometimes, just screaming at each other.” 

Adam raised an eyebrow, “What’s he like?”

“He’s nice,” she said, slightly uncertain. “I don’t talk to him much. You can ask the butler, he knows him better.” She tugged slightly at the hem of her shirt and glanced at him. 

“Ok,” he said, he switched the recorder off and dropped his notepad back into his bag. He had been fidgeting for the last ten minutes, unable to sit still and was aware that it was beginning to put her off. “Let’s just talk now,” he said. “About other stuff. I’ll look into this later.”

Her mouth quirked up slightly at the corners. “Bored already?”

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve been listening to you for half an hour, gimme a break.”

She rolled her eyes, but gave him a pass for his ADHD. “Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested. “You’ve only been here a couple of times, right? There are some really pretty rock pools down on the south shore.”   

He was already standing by the time she had finished her sentence. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, but then paused. “I don’t have a jacket.”

“Idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “How do you usually get by?”

“I borrow Behati’s clothes,” he admitted. “I brought one of her sweaters, I can wear that with a few shirts.” What was loose on his friend fitted him exactly, and he found something strangely pleasing about that. Perks of being best friends with an abnormally tall girl. 

“Ok, you do that,” she said. “You can change here, no one will come in. I’m just going to grab something thicker to put on.”

As she closed the door behind her, Adam felt as if he could finally think. He stood silently for a minute, brow creased as he pondered. On the outside, it seemed as if the maid had simply ran away, and if so it was best left to the police. He didn’t make a habit of tracking people who didn’t want to be found. But he couldn’t help thinking that there was more to the matter than Christina was necessarily letting on, he wondered if she’d speak easier if she felt less like she was being interrogated. 

He opened his bag and shook it, dumping the contents on the couch. Matt had greatly exaggerated the lightness of his bag, but it was true that there wasn’t much in it. He frowned as he sifted through the messy pile of clothing. He hadn’t even remembered to pack his 11inch macbook, which  was worrying. He rarely went anywhere without it.

With a sigh, he peeled off his sodden white shirt and pulled on a singlet. He glanced outside, it wasn’t raining anymore but judging by the way the trees were bending almost in half he was going to freeze anyway. After a moment’s deliberation he grabbed a purple T-shirt then pulled a button-up over it. Grabbing Behati’s sweater he left the room, hoping that he’d be warm enough.    

“You’re looking fashionable,” Christina commented, as he met her at the front door. 

“That’s sarcasm, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing down at his combination. She sniggered and buttoned up her jacket. Adam glanced at her shoes and was glad to see that she was wearing boots as opposed to her typical flashy heels. 

Stepping outside, Adam immediately became envious of her earmuffs as the wind hit him like a whip.

“Am I the only PI you called?” he asked, following her across the road to what looked like a walking track cut through the bush. 

“So far, yeah. Luke wanted to bring in his gun-crazy friend, so unfortunately he might be popping in at any time,” she said, referring to her fiancé’s friend. “Which reminds me, we need to discuss your pay rate.”

“Hey,” he said. “We’re friends, let’s just say that if I don’t figure this thing out in the next few days then we can talk money.”

She frowned, but agreed.

They were walking through a heavily forested area, which offered quite a lot of protection from the weather. However after only ten minutes, Adam’s ears, nose and fingers were frozen. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, only to discover that he’d already put Christina’s letter into one of them. 

“That letter you sent me,” he said, unsure how to breach the subject. “You said some things about your grandmother as well. How’s she holding up?”  

She tensed, seeming to remember things that she’d pushed to the back of her mind. “She’s, well you know she’s had health problems for years now.”

He nodded. “Lung cancer, right?”

“Yeah,” she said and tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “There isn’t really much time left, actually. The doctors have given her a few weeks, a month at most. We got a live-in nurse to make her more comfortable.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, sincere. They had stopped walking and he did the only thing he could imagine in the situation and tugged her into a hug, pushing her head to his collar bone. She let out a little sigh, and relaxed slightly, letting go of tension Adam hadn’t realised she was holding. They stood that way quietly until it became awkward and they broke apart. 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and patting his chest. “I still haven’t shown  you the rock pools.” 

He followed her until they reached a huge tree and came out on the beach. 

“Our boat shelter is over there,” she said, motioning towards a long tin building around twenty feet away from where they were standing. 

“Mind if i take a quick look?” he asked. 

“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll show you the missing boat.”

The shelter was dark and kind of damp, built up higher on the shore off the sand. Adam didn’t even need her to point it out, each boat had it’s own position and the gap was painfully obvious. Christina walked over to a cupboard and unlocked it with a key from a chain around her neck. Within it were two neats rows of oars.  

“How hard is it to row to the mainland?” he asked, circling the boats. They were all double seated man powered fishing vessels, sturdy enough for their purpose, but flimsy up against real weather. 

“I’ve done it before,” she said. “With Jessica, actually. It’s at least four or five hours work, but definitely possible.” 

“That doesn’t sound possible to me,” he said grimacing. 

“See,” she said. “Yoga isn’t the answer to everything, it doesn’t teach you life skills.”

“Don’t trash yoga,” he said, defensive. “How else do you think I got this hot?”

“Genetics,” she suggested. “You done looking yet?” 

“Just a sec,” he said and squatted next to a boat. “Talk me through the process of getting one of these out to sea.” 

“You are such a novice,” she said, rolling her eyes. “First you drag the boat down the beach, then you get in the water and go.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you need oars?” he asked, standing and moving to the neat rack at the other end of the shed. 

“I- yeah,” she frowned and followed him. “But there aren’t any missing.” 

“You sure?” he asked. 

She counted the oars and then nodded, “There aren’t any missing.” 

“Then there’s no way she rowed to the main shore,” he said. He glanced at the gap of the missing boat again. “Does everyone have access to the shelter?”

“Yes,” she said. “But only a few of us have the key to the oar cabinet. That would be me, the butler and Greta.”

“When are the police coming back?” he asked. 

“Tomorrow afternoon, should I tell them?”

“Definitely,” he said. “Because this isn’t making much sense at the moment.” 

She sighed. “I didn’t even think of that. What does this mean now?” 

“It's probably easily explainable,” he said, speaking carefully and staying optimistic, not wanting to freak her out. “I might talk to some of the other residents, see whether they know what’s going on.” The island was primarily full of expensive holiday houses from various tycoons and celebrities and Adam wasn’t too keen on attempting to talk to them with no leverage, however he was pretty certain he could get some information out of Christina’s staff and family. 

“Who’s staying with you at the moment?” he asked. Greta had lived alone with only a few staff for many years before she’d taken on Christina as a teenager. Adam was still unsure of how the rest of the family had reacted to her father’s disappearance and Greta taking her in as if she was her daughter, despite cutting her father out of the will. 

He followed her out of the shelter and toward the rock pools she’d wanted to show him. “When the doctors gave us the news my uncle Dmitri flew in from Germany,” she said, crouching to show him a small red star fish. “As you know, Jacob owns another house on the island so he’s been over to see his mum pretty much every day.”

Adam nodded, despite barely being able to recall her uncles. 

He sat on a rock next to the pool and picked up a shell. “Anyone else living with you?” he asked, holding it up to his ear and listening to the swishing noises. 

She rolled her eyes at his childishness. “Matt’s working on a project in the backyard, so Luke’s over, as I already mentioned. Apparently he’s a builder, but I think Matt just wants an excuse to drink more beer.”

“That’s a strong possibility,” Adam allowed. 

She laughed and then rubbed at her eyes, smudging her makeup slightly. “God, I’m just so tired, y’know,” she said. “The thing with Grandma is tough, but I’m really worried about Jessica too. And then there’s the missing jewellery…”

Adam mentally kicked himself for not remembering to ask her about it. “You mentioned that in your letter.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Grandma’s silver pendant with the family crest carving has gone missing, and I know I definitely fastened it around her neck that morning.”

“Clasps break,” he suggested. “Maybe it just fell and got lost.”

“Thing is, though, she didn’t leave her bed for that entire day,” Christina said, and then stood glancing at the sky. “We should get back if we want to make it for dinner.” 

“Do you reckon someone could have taken it?” he asked, glancing forlornly back at the rock pools as he followed her up the slope.  

“I suppose,” she said. “But I can’t think of anyone who would. Our security isn’t that great, but most people on this island are even better off than us.”

He hesitated slightly. “Could Jessica…?” With Christina it was always unpredictable how she would react. There was a possibility she’d just shrug him off, but then there was always a chance of the explosions of tears or furious tirade that he’d have to suffer through. He lagged slightly behind her, the last thing he wanted was a sharp nailed slap to the face. 

“I don’t know,” she said. And he was glad that her tone was somber yet reserved, not a chance of her clawing his throat out. “I don’t feel like she would, I really don’t. But there’s still the possibility.”

“I’m sure there was a good reason if she did,” he said comfortingly. 

The rain was just coming back as they made it into the house. Seemingly out of nowhere an old man appeared, taking Christina’s jacket off her. Adam’s eyes widened with recognition. 

“Fredrick!” he said, surprised. He recognised the elderly butler from his summer holidays spent on the island. “I didn’t realise you were still, uh…”

“Alive?” he asked, hanging up her jacket. There was a trace of dry amusement in his voice. 

“I was going to say ‘still working’,” Adam protested.

“Of course,” he said. “Would you like me to take your sweater?”

Adam passed it to him and then followed Christina as she took off down the hall, no doubt after the warm fireplace again. 

“Dinner will be served in twenty minutes,” the butler called after them. 

“Dude that’s crazy,” Adam said, dropping back into the plush armchair he’d vacated about an hour previous. “That guy’s got to be pushing a hundred.”  

“You’re stupid,” she said. He could tell that she was rolling her eyes, although only barely. The sun had almost set and the only source of lighting was the fireplace. “He’s only in his eighties.”

“Close enough,” he said. Picking up his notes he flicked through them, brow furrowed. “Who’s this gun loving dude that, uh, Luke wants to bring over?”

“Oh.” She was definitely rolling her eyes this time. “His name’s Blake Shelton, he’s been around a couple of times. I might of been exaggerating when I called him gun loving, but he’s just some hick who’s never been to college. Cares more about his horses than having kids.” 

“So I don’t have to worry about having my head blown off my shoulders if I go snack hunting in the pantry in the middle of the night?”

“Probably not.”

Turning to a new page in his notebook, Adam scribbled in messy capital letters onto the top of the sheet. 

_Blake Shelton._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all I want to apologise for leaving you guys with one chapter and then disappearing for an entire month. I was an idiot to think that I could get another chapter out in the last few days before I left for Japan while balancing my string concert and multiple tests. Hopefully that won't happen again...
> 
> But since I've been back in Australia I was lucky enough to get a chance to see Maroon 5 in Sydney, definitely the highlight of the holidays. They were absolutely amazing! If any of you get a chance to see them I'd definitely recommend it, best concert I've ever been to.
> 
> I wanted to get the chapter out by today as it's my birthday :) so hope you all enjoy.

Adam could feel Luke’s gaze on him and struggled not to raise his head. He was planning on avoiding eye contact if he could help it. 

“So you’re like, what, a police officer?” the other man finally asked, thick southern accent obvious even through amouthful of food. 

“Well, no,” Adam replied, “I’m a private investigator, but until a couple years back I was a cop.” 

“Nice,” Luke said, although he sounded distracted. His gaze had already slid to Christina. “My friend Blake’s ex-wife’s parents are both private investigators.” 

Matt coughed, but it sounded as though he was trying to hide a laugh. “That’s a long shot even for you, man.”

“What?” Luke shot back, sounding defensive. “It’s kind of relevant.”

“He must have been an idiot,” Christina said, not looking up from her meat as she cut it into small squares. “I’d never marry someone with any connection to PIs. Some things need to be kept secret.” She glanced sideways at Adam, a smirk dancing around the corners of her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding apologetic. 

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks Christina. I hope you don’t pass your advice on to any of my future partners.”  

Christina smiled and Matt and Luke laughed, the tension they hadn’t even realised was there dissolving. A warmth gathered at the small kitchen table, aided by the seemingly never ending supply of cold beer. 

“How’s the building going,” Christina asked, as she finished her glass, passing it to Fredrick without even glancing at him. She turned her eyes to her fiancé expectantly.

He blinked, seeming caught off guard. “Great, yeah, real good…” he said, quickly ducking his head to avoid Christina’s unimpressed glare. 

“Have you guys even been working on it?” she asked. “Or has the pub been more interesting.” 

“It wasn’t that,” Matt protested. 

“Really.” 

“He ain't lyin’,” Luke said, shaking his head firmly. 

“Yeah,” Matt said, frowning. “We’ve just been a little distracted, what with a woman who had full access to the entire house going missing with a good thirty thousand dollars worth of jewellery.” 

The mood cooled just as quickly as it had warmed, and Adam glanced nervously between Christina and Matt, sinking further back in his chair. 

“You know as well as I do that Jessica is about as likely to have stolen from us as Fredrick,” she replied, eyes flashing. 

“I’m only saying,” he replied, holding his hands out in a defensive gesture, “Maybe you should do a background check on that guy too.”

“Please,” Christina said, her lip curling derisively. “I suppose you’ve been talking to Jacob?”

“Maybe.”

Adam watched the exchange curiously. “Your uncle believes the maid stole from you guys?” he asked, wondering if it was wise to join the conversation. He wasn’t particularly familiar with Matt, but he knew Christina’s temper was foul and indiscriminate for whom she lashed out at. 

“You agree with them?” she snapped, letting him know that it was indeed a bad idea to butt in. 

He contemplated sinking lower into his chair but straightened instead, it put him in a better position to avoid anything she threw at him. “No, I’m just curious,” he said, meeting her eyes. He tried to keep his tone and expression as placating as possible. 

“Really? Because you’ve been here two seconds and you’re already drawing conclusions,” she snapped. “I’m sure you’ve already developed some stupid theory, but it has no basis since you’ve never even met Jessica!” 

He glanced helplessly at Luke, who out of Christina’s line of sight was frantically miming his throat been cut. “Calm down, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hesitated. “Uh, you know what, never mind, I shouldn’t have interrupted your conversation.”

“Damn straight,” she replied, suddenly turning her glare back on her partner. They lapsed back into bitter argument, the way they communicated making the exchange feel as though it was a familiar route.

In a sudden moment of stillness Adam felt exhaustion begin to catch up to him, a reminder that he hadn’t slept for nearly sixty hours. He glanced at his relatively untouched plate, feeling tired just at the thought of having to eat. It was a little past nine o’clock, and he stood quietly, pushing his chair in. “I’m going to head up to bed, ok?” he said. Christina and Matt paid him no attention, distracted by harsh words, that at any other time Adam would have made sure to listen to carefully. Luke acknowledged him with a nod and a tight smile. 

“See you tomorrow, man.” 

Adam left the kitchen and closed the door behind him, cutting off all sound. Pausing in the dim hallway he came to the realisation that he had no idea where his room was, and, in fact, he’d left his bag in a room with a location that he now had no recollection of. Just as he was about to turn back into the room a shuffling beside him made him tense up and reach for a weapon at his hip that wasn’t there. 

Standing less than a foot away from him was Fredrick, face nothing more than a map of deep lines and shadows in the gloom. Adam relaxed slightly, immediately noticing his bag held loosely by its straps in one of the man’s hands. 

“This way, sir,” he said, voice a weary whisper, yet still easily audible in the silence. He didn’t bother turning any lights on, so Adam watched his own feet carefully as he followed him up the stairs, too uncomfortable to remind the man of his unfamiliarity with the house. Every creak had his eyes darting to the corners, embarrassing frightened. 

On the second floor Fredrick stopped at the last door, locating a key in his breast pocket and sliding it into the lock. Even the soft 'click click' did nothing to softened the silence.

“This is our nicest guest room,” he said, thankfully turning on a light. Adam felt the tightness in his chest finally loosen and he let his shoulders relax fully. “Most of our guests find the view breathtakingly beautiful.” 

The room was a pale blue colour with a large four poster in the middle of the room, complimented with an oak desk, set of drawers and vanity. There was also a classy looking ensuite attached and Adam cringed at the thought of what price the room would have cost him if it were a hotel. Taking up the entire east wall was a huge set of bay windows with a white leather cushioned seat underneath. While it was too dark to see the view outside, the crashing of waves against rocks was soft yet audible even from where he was standing. 

“Awesome,” he said appreciatively. The last time he’d been there, he’d stayed at a small motel down at the village because Christina hadn’t managed to convince her grandmother that letting a man stay with them was anything other than a blasphemous idea. 

Fredrick placed his bag on his bed and stepped away. “Rest well,” he said simply, passing Adam the key and slipping out quietly. The door didn’t make a sound as it closed. 

* * *

As Adam hadn’t had the forethought to close the blinds as he slept, he was greeted with blinding sunshine slightly before six the next morning. He sighed and threw an arm over his face, making an attempt to fall back asleep. After ten minutes or so he gave up and rolled out of bed, mind already buzzing and bladder protesting. He relieved himself quickly before returning to his room, moving straight to the window. As Fredrick had predicted the view truly was breathtaking, room placed strategically at the edge of a large cliff, looking down on the beach hundreds of feet below. 

With the tide in so far, only the very edge of the sand was visible and Adam wondered just how far out it spanned at low tide. Yawning, he stretched, deciding to do some yoga. To his frustration he found that he’d neglected to even bring yoga pants, and resolved to just do it in his boxers. 

As he arranged his body into the difficult yet familiar poses, Adam felt his mind begin to clear. He started to plan his day, recognising that he would have his work cut out, interviewing people as well as visiting locations. First of all, he wanted to go down to the general store and call Behati, as well as fax the footprint photos to Jesse. He almost laughed at the idea, unable to remember the last time he’d faxed anyone anything. He planned to talk to the people working down at the village, get their opinions on the drama, as well as the latest gossip of course. 

His thoughts drifted to Christina and he wondered if she was still mad at him. It was unlikely, in fact she was more likely to be wanting to give him an apology, although he knew better than to ever expect one. 

Relaxing into savasana he glanced over at the antique clock placed on the mantlepiece. It was nearly seven o’clock and he resolved to go down to the village and pick up breakfast and hopefully a coffee, as well as get his papers faxed, getting both tasks done at once. 

He tugged on his jeans and grabbed a long sleeve shirt, hopeful it would be enough to keep him warm. After emptying the remaining clothes out of his bag onto his bed, he slipped it over his shoulder and left his room as quietly as he could. The house was calm, and felt almost empty, the only sound being the dishwasher going through its last cycle in the dim kitchen. Christina had never been an early riser, and there were hardly any staff that actually lived on the premise. 

He spied Luke through the window as he passed it, standing on the back veranda smoking, his face turned away. The itch to smoke was weighing on his mind and he was already reaching for a cigarette by the time he was at the front door. Lighting it, he wandered out onto the road, vaguely remembering Christina telling him a couple of years back that if he just followed it south, he’d reach the village in thirty minutes or so. 

He stuck one hand in his pocket and walked casually down the centre of the road, fairly confident no cars would be passing by. Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he took a moment to admire the view. To his left were almost ridiculously large mansions, some in the modern style others definitely more than a hundred years old, the Aguilera’s included. He took a deep breath of sea air and then coughed, the icy air too harsh a contrast with the pleasant burn in his throat. 

He allowed himself to become lost in his thoughts, the cigarette nothing more than a burnt stub discarded several miles back. Before he knew it, he was passing the ‘Welcome to Wickham Village’ sign and stepping right into the middle of the quiet bustle of early morning country life. The general store wasn’t difficult to find, with the large flecked green letters spelling out GENERAL STORE erected on its tin roof. 

Adam couldn’t help but be impressed by the range of product the large shop boasted. Not only was there the general groceries with an alcove of shelves dedicated just to liquor, there was also a small café with a customer already sitting in the back corner. At first glance the man seemed to be the only one in the shop, but soon enough Adam noticed several others browsing the shelves of the grocery store. An old man slouched behind the counter perked up as soon as Adam came in the door, eyes zeroing in on the tattoos on his wrists that his shirt didn’t quite cover. 

“What can I do for you today, lad?” he asked, an almost complete set of yellow teeth greeting him as he grinned. 

“Couple of things, actually,” Adam said, taking off his bag and placing it on the counter. “I’d like to make a phone call, fax some photos and hopefully get some breakfast.”

“Well I can do all of that for you,” he replied, picking up the landline phone from a table behind him and placing it in front of Adam. “Afraid we’ve got some pretty hefty international fees, though. Faxes are five dollars a sheet, and calls are twenty-five per half hour if it’s America you’re wanting to contact.” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Adam said, smiling tightly at him and passing the photos across.

“Name’s Nick,” he said, taking the photos and passing Adam a notepad. He flicked through the images briefly, raising an eyebrow at the photos of the footprints from various angles as well as the several shots of the cliff, but didn’t comment. 

“I’m Adam,” he replied, jotting down Jesse’s number on the notepad. He glanced at his watch. It was seven-thirty which meant that it was eight-thirty in LA, a reasonable time for her to probably be in the car. He typed in the country code and Behati’s number as Nick moved away to give him some privacy. Just as he had thought, she picked up on the second ring, the loud honks of peak traffic audible even through the phone. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Adam,” she said, sounding pleased. “How’s Xtina?”

“Same as usual,” he replied. “Well a bit more stressed I guess, what with her grandmother and now this thing with the maid.” He proceeded to give her the details on the current situation in the household, keeping his tone hushed; he knew from past experiences that the last thing he wanted to do was give the townspeople even more ammunition for gossip. 

She made a sympathetic clucking noise, followed by a swear word and a loud honk. “Did you forget your phone at home?” she asked a moment later. “I don’t recognise this number.” 

“No,” he said, “I just don’t have reception at the moment, due to shit weather. I’m using the phone down at the general store.” 

“The Aguilera’s don’t have a landline? I didn’t peg them for cheap.”

“I know, right?” he said laughing. “I don’t know how Christina’s surviving without her phone.” At the edge of his vision, he noticed the customer sitting in the corner look up from his coffee, impassively watching him. He resolved to try and be quieter. 

“Are you really alright?” she asked softly. “You did leave in a bit of a fluster.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, “It’s a bit weird being here though. Christina’s a bit emotional, and I don’t feel particularly like her fiancé likes me.” 

“If you’d given me some notice I would have come with you,” she said. 

“Yeah, and exactly how much leave do you have left since you followed me to that Mexican hospital after I got shot? You might be an up and coming genius scientist or whatever, but I don’t think your boss will appreciate it.” 

“You’re an idiot,” she said fondly. “It’s marine biologist, anyway, and I just didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to stay a couple nights in some rich lady’s house. On a side note, you better not get yourself shot again,” she said, voice taking on a warning edge. “Neither your mother nor I can put up with any more of that kind of stress. You quit being a cop because it was too dangerous, don’t tell me you’re going to be even more likely to end up in a ditch in this line of work.” 

Adam fought the urge to say that he’d quit being a cop because he hated playing by the rules, because the last thing he wanted to do was spout clichés. “Sure, sure,” he said dismissively. “You know me, chasing down adulterers and stalking victims of infatuation, nothing exciting.” 

“Don’t fuck it up,” she replied and then sighed. “I’ve got to go, I’ve reached work. But just relax, ok? This is more of a holiday than a case, I’m sure the police will have it all worked out in the next few days.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he replied, adding, “Don’t forget to feed my dogs.” 

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I mean, how long have I been your neighbour? All the animals are still alive.” 

He smiled into the receiver. "Thanks, Bee, seriously," he said. “I’m sure I’ll see you in a few days.” He hung up and nodded to Nick as the old man passed him back the photos. 

“What can I get you, this morning?” Nick asked, moving to the coffee machine and pastry cabinet.

“Cappuccino, thanks,” he said, tilting his head to inspect the bread. “The croissant looks good.”  

“It certainly is,” Nick nodded. “Have here, or take out?” 

“Have here,” Adam replied, hopeful that he’d be able to strike up a conversation with the old man. 

“You from California?” Nick asked, not looking up as he poured the coffee.

“Yeah, LA actually,” he said, “How could you tell?” 

“Miss Aguilera may not have been born there, but she grew up ‘round that area,” he said, eyes knowing. “You both talk fairly similar.” 

Adam bit back the urge to ask if he should be offended and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve known her for awhile.” He grabbed a long legged chair and pulled it over to sit at the long bench in front of the machines. He could see Nick looking at him with an indiscernible expression, which after a short moment Adam recognised as hesitation to ask a question. He raised an eyebrow at him and nodded his head in encouragement. 

Nick placed his coffee in front of him and then went to get a pair of tongs for the croissant. “No offence,” he said, pausing, “But are you a cop?” 

“A cop?” Adam repeated, and then laughed. “You think I’m a police officer?” 

He shrugged, placing the croissant on a plate in front of him. “Yeah, a copper come down from LA to help the Aguilera’s out with their mess. Sounds ‘bout right to me.”

“Afraid I’m not that cool,” he replied smoothly, suddenly aware of eyes on him. The few customers browsing the groceries had stilled ever so slightly and some of them were even sticking their heads out of the aisles to glance at him every now and again. He could see the one customer from the corner watching him in the reflection of the pastry display. Adam made eye contact with him in the mirror-like glass, but the stranger met his gaze solidly, showing no shame. 

“I’m just a friend of Christina’s,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “I came here as support because her grandmother is very sick.” 

“Yeah.” Nick nodded. “I reckon Jacob’s pretty happy ‘bout that.” 

“Jacob?” Adam asked, surprised. “Christina’s uncl— Greta’s son?”

“Unfortunately,” he replied, shaking his head. “Never understood how such a lovely woman could have ended up with three deadbeat sons. At least Fausto managed to have some part in creating a kid who actually cares about her.” 

“Christina?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” the old man chuckled, “Greta’s never been in better hands than with Christina looking after her.” 

“Do you know the family well?” Adam asked. “I’m kind of new around here, as you’ve probably noticed. I’ve only been to the island once briefly, for Christina’s 25th a few years back.”

“Well, I can’t say I know the family that well,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “But I am quite close with several of the servants. In fact, my granddaughter’s ex-boyfriend is the gardener.” 

“Gardener?” Adam asked, trying to work out if Christina had mentioned him. 

“His name’s Nathan O’Riley, and he’s the current boyfriend of your missing girl,” he said, grinning like he’d solved the case. “Worst piece of shit that I ever did see.” 

“Ah,” Adam said, eyes widening in recognition, “I remember Christina mentioning him. He and Jessica were fighting weren’t they?” He speared a square piece of his croissant and ate it while keeping his eye on the grocery part of the store. Thankfully the few nosy customers had gotten bored, returning to their shopping.  

“That’s an understatement,” Nick said, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bench to sit and talk more comfortably. Adam set himself a mental note not to share any private information with the guy, he was certain it would find its way around the rumour mill at least a few times before the next day. Nick leaned his elbows on the bench and pressed his bony fingers together, glaring at Adam seriously from under his grey, bushy brows. “He was hitting her, I’m certain of it.”

“Seriously?” Adam said, frowning. “That’s bad. Did you see the bruises?” 

“Not exactly,” he allowed, “But all of a sudden she was just coming in late and looking tired, saying she’d had fights with him. And then she started wearing longer sleeves and often scarves. Jessica hated— hates scarves.” 

“Do you think she stole the jewellery?” Adam asked, deciding to cut to the chase and ask the question as bluntly as possible, like ripping off a band-aid. 

“No,” he said, and then hesitated slightly. “Or at least I don’t think so. She doesn’t have it in her, but I reckon Nathan does.”

Adam chewed the last piece of his croissant thoughtfully, eyes darting to the time on his watch. It was now a little past eight and he decided that now was as good a time as any to visit the gardener, see what his take on his girlfriend’s disappearance was. 

“Well I’ve got to get going,” he said, reaching for his wallet. He stopped just short of his pocket and mentally kicked himself. “Um, do you take American dollars?” 

Nick was frowning already, hesitantly glancing at the cash register. “Well, unfortunately—”

“It’s alright, I’ll get the bill,” a third voice interjected. Adam looked up sharply and made eye contact for the second time that morning with the stranger from the corner of the café. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty the man’s blue eyes were before he snapped out of it and shook his head vigorously. 

“No dude, I’m good,” he said, dismissing him with a hand gesture. The man proceeded to ignore him and instead, to Adam’s discomfort, leaned over him, placing one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the bench. 

“Are you friends?” Nick asked, glancing between them. 

“We will be,” the man replied with a chuckle. He had an unmistakably strong southern accent that he had somehow missed from the first words he’d spoken.

“Well if you insist,” Nick said, although he didn’t sound like he needed much convincing. “Bill’s seventy-three dollars and fifty cents, about the same in American dollars.” 

He blinked and glanced at Adam. “You sure eat a lot for a tiny guy,” he remarked, but opened his wallet anyway, forking over two crisp fifties.

The ‘thank you’ he’d been about to say died on his lips and was replaced with a furious pout. Unsure of how to respond he simply crossed his arms, frown deepening as the man threw back his head and laughed. 

“I’m Blake, by the way,” he said, thankfully taking his arm off the back of Adam’s chair and giving him some breathing space. 

“Oh,” Adam said, anger replaced with surprise and recognition. “Blake Shelton, right?” 

Blake looked surprised but then rolled his eyes. “Luke’s been runnin’ his big mouth, I take it?” 

Nick returned with the change, interrupting before Adam could reply. He passed the money to Blake and smiled at Adam. “Have a talk to Christina ‘bout Nathan for me, would you? So I don’t have to go up there with a shotgun myself.” 

“I’ll try,” he said, with a weak smile. “No promises.”

“Never can be when she’s involved,” Blake muttered, stepping away from the bench and toward the door. “You’re goin’ to O’Riley’s house, I’ll join you,” he said, leaving no room for argument. He stood patiently at the door, waiting for Adam to get up. 

The thin smile stayed fixed on Adam’s face until he was out the door, evaporating into a guarded scowl. 

“You’re not coming with me,” he said, trying to quicken his pace, but unable to pass Blake’s long-legged pace without destroying the illusion that he was still walking at a comfortable speed. He had the folder full of photos tucked uncomfortably under one arm and they jostled him with every movement.  

“Oh well,” Blake said, infuriatingly calm as he followed Adam up the road back to the Aguilera mansion. “You do owe me, after all. I paid for your ridiculously expensive breakfast.” 

“The meal was only thirteen-fifty,” Adam replied through gritted teeth. “It was the fax and call that were the real money. And I could have paid with my card anyway. You should have just minded your own business.”

“You’re prickly,” Blake said, frowning. “Calm down, I ain't tryin’ to fight you.” 

Adam took a breath and tried to relax, sending the other man only a slightly annoyed glance. “Sorry, but I’d really rather you didn’t follow me.” 

“Why?” he asked, taking a couple of larger steps to overtake Adam and observe his facial expressions. “You a cop or somethin’?”

“Everyone keeps asking me that,” he sighed. “No, I’m not, I’m a PI. But I’m not here as one, I’m here as Christina’s friend. She just wants me to check this thing out, see whether there’s a case to it, or whether it’s just misplaced jewellery and a girl who’s run away and eloped.”  

“I think she just doesn’t want to pay you,” Blake said, shrugging. “So I was right. You aren’t a cop, but you are the ‘or something’.”  

“Great work Sherlock,” he said. “What was it that gave it away? My incessant questioning or the folder of crime scene photographs I’m carrying right now?” 

Blake shook his head, an amazed expression on his face. “And here I was thinkin’ all of Christina’s friends were as nice as Gwen.” 

“Hey I’m nice,” Adam protested, vaguely remembering the blonde woman from a few parties. “Just not as nice as her.” He tilted his head to the side, realising that if Blake knew Christina’s friends then he must know her quite well. 

“Who are you, anyway?” he asked, giving the guy a shameless visual inspection from head to toe. He was dressed in loose blue jeans, and a thick cargo jacket with a plaid shirt peeking out from under it. Adam remembered Christina’s warnings of him being a gun enthusiast and wondered whether there were any hidden in the bulky jacket. 

“I’m a friend too,” Blake replied, stopping in the middle of the path and causing Adam to slow down and finally stop a few feet higher on the cliff. “Though I’m Luke’s friend, rather than Christina’s. But I guess that kind of makes me Matt’s friend-in-law or somethin’.”

“No, it really doesn’t,” Adam replied. “Why are you here? Yesterday Christina was talking as though you coming over was a possibility, I don’t remember her telling me you’d be here at seven am the next day.” 

“Uh.” His expression turned slightly sheepish. “Surprise?”

“Great,” Adam said, tone dry, “Now hurry up and get moving, I want to go question this dude before the sun fucking sets.” 

“Ok, ok, I’m coming,” he said, raising a hand to block the bright morning sunshine from his eyes. Adam was almost certain that he could see the outline of a rifle under his jacket. “I didn’t catch your name, actually,” Blake said, walking slightly quicker to catch up to him. 

“Adam Levine,” he replied. “You’re telling me you weren’t listening in on my conversation with Nick?” 

“Oh, well I was,” he said, “Just didn’t catch your name when I was listenin’ in.”

His nonchalance drew a small snort of laughter from Adam who shook his head in disbelief. “You’re something special, Shelton.” 

He might not have meant it as a compliment, but the man’s beaming smile left no room for argument. He couldn’t help smiling, but picked up his pace again to hide it from the hick. After all, no one knew better than him how crippling it could be to trust. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated (pls it's my bday) and if you notice any typos or other errors please tell me. I've done my best to proofread but a few will probably slip through anyway. 
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to follow me on tumblr I'm at:
> 
> www.tishomingojeans.tumblr.com


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